


I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes

by SeekingSelkies



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (kinda), And Thus By Jonny Sims Metric Cannot Be Defined as People, But Are Still Good Cows, Cows, Cows Which Cannot Be Held to Human Moral Standards, Fluff, Fluffier Than A Highland Cow, Good Cows (The Magnus Archives), Jon Nearly Gets Trampled By Cows, Kissing, M/M, Morally Questionable Cows, Near Death Experiences, No beta we die like Oliver Banks (and then get better), Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25476409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekingSelkies/pseuds/SeekingSelkies
Summary: Jon gets a little cavalier about his immortality and almost has an altercation with a field of cows. Martin has to jump in to assist.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 23
Kudos: 171





	I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Based off my own stupidity and text conversations with a very cute girl.
> 
> And yes, yes I do change tenses halfway through.

The last thing Jonathan Sims was going to see before he died

were a pair of huge brown eyes

If questioned, over the years, as to what he thought his final view would be before tap-dancing off this mortal coil, his usual answer would have been simply

_nothing._

Not in a self-pitying way. It was simply that he had already outlived his parents, very much expected to outlive his grandmother (and was proven correct) and, save for a brief period of thinking that perhaps Georgie might be there, and in a benevolent universe would have brought the Admiral with her, couldn’t think of a single being who would have any reason or inclination to want his company when he drop-kicked the bucket into the sun.

Except…

There were times he wondered if they’d managed to miss a couple of the worms following Jane Prentiss’ attack. Now and then there was a tingling feeling, beyond his skin, beyond fat and muscle and organs, nestled deep within his cells.

He was familiar with hope as an abstract concept, but it wasn’t something he could put a name to if he felt it.

 _If_ he felt it

Martin had always been attentive, hadn’t he? Even before the attacks. Even after the murder accusations. All of the murder accusations. But it didn’t mean anything. Martin was nice to everyone. Martin was the type of person who would walk straight up to an avatar of the desolation, shower himself in gasoline, and still apologise for not keeping them warm enough.

So if Martin’s eyes, those chestnut brown irises circling pupils so wide Jon suspected if he stared for too long he’d find himself tipped headfirst back into the Buried, if those eyes were the last thing he saw before he finally closed his own, well.

It didn’t mean anything.

And the tingling feeling would rise, buzzing just below his skin until Jon finally understood what Jane Prentiss meant when she said it _itched_

He didn’t think he minded either.

The eyes in which Jon saw his death laid out before him with such clarity he could have sworn he was following the gaze of Oliver Banks, however, were not Martin Blackwoods.

They were the eyes of _Bò Ghàidhealach  
  
_Known less poetically as the Highland cow.

Jon did not, strictly speaking, need to breathe, but he liked the regularity of it. There was no longer the pressing knowledge that he would die if he stopped inhaling, but there was the jolt of knowledge that the horns rising up from either side of the cows face were more than capable of piercing his now purely decorative lungs. Followed by the knowledge that her hooves, and the hooves of the rest of the herd currently advancing towards him, would have far more influence against him than any archival powers he could wield against them in turn.

The cow at the front of the group jumped, readying to charge, her herd behind her watching steadily behind a thick dusky fringe of hair.

Jon felt his a little-more-than-merely-decorative-heart hammering in his chest.

He slipped one hand into his pocket, flicking his physical gaze toward, but keeping the Eye laser-focussed on the herd. His fingers clasped around the smooth plastic of his phone and drew it out, reaching for the first and only number listed in his contacts.

**Martin.  
How does one theoretically avoid being trampled to death by cows?**

In his peripheral, and very literal archival vision, he could see the cows start to walk away, heads still turned towards him, but with 8% less animosity. He took a tentative step forwards.

The cow at the front of the herd turned to him, and took another small jump towards him. He could feel the lines of focus zero on him. He stopped, granting himself a glance at his phone

 **…  
  
**_Hurry up, Martin_ , he thought, and by the look on the cows face he wondered if he’d projected that thought a little louder than he intended.

**Bulls or cows?**

**Cows**

**Any calves?**

**No, there aren’t any calves**

**I thought you said this was theoretical?!  
Jesus, Jon!**

**I lied  
But no calves  
I don’t have a death wish**

**If this phone had an emoji for ‘Extreme scepticism’ I would be sending it to you now, Jon**

**Lots of them?**

**Yes**

**Lots**

**One is very, very close to my leg Martin  
It’s eating my trousers**

**I told you you should wear a kilt**

**This is serious**

**I know. I’m being serious. Just stay calm**

**Don’t run. If you run they’ll chase you**

**Cows are just like big dogs. They want to be friends, but they don’t know their own strength**

**Not exactly a dog person either**

**Ah. Yeah**

**And stay on your feet, if you sit down you’ll get trampled**

**I’m not going to lie down in front of a herd of massive herbivores Martin!**

**Just stay still and look as boring as possible**

**Oh good. Finally something easy**

**I’m not going to argue with you while you’re in ‘’peril’’, but we are having words about that later**

**Try not to let them circle you, in case something startles them**

**….**

**Jon?**

**Jon?**

**Jon what happened?**

**I really hope your phone’s on silent**

**One (1) missed call from Martin Blackwood**

**Two (2) missed calls from Martin Blackwood**

**Three (3) missed calls from Martin Blackwood**

**Four (4) missed calls from Martin Blackwood**

**You have three new voicemail messages. Message 1**

_Jon where are you? Are you ok? I was only joking about the kilt thing I wasn’t serious please tell me you’re ok, just call me._ Now.

**Message 2**

_No. No. You have to be ok. I forbid you not to be ok. You do not get to pull me out of the Lonely and into the depths of the Scottish highlands for you not to be ok. I don’t have to watch you in a_ coma _for_ months _for you not to be ok. I don’t have to watch you get attacked by a horde of hellish fear entities for you not to be ok. You are not getting trampled by cows, Jon. I refuse._

**Message 3**

*deep breath* I’m coming to find you

The last thing Jonathan Sims sees before he dies are a huge pair of brown eyes

Well, more accurately speaking the last thing he sees is a blur of dark brown and navy and deep green as Martin Blackwood crashes into him, enfolding him entirely.

“Martin!” he lets out a muffled cry, swallowed by Martin’s jumper

Martin releases his hold, cupping his hands around Jon’s face and pulls him into a fierce kiss, pushing him back against the stile which he had been leaning against a moment before, trying to catch his breath and remind his body what a normal human resting heart rate was supposed to be.

Although, as Martin’s hands reach up into his hair, pulling him closer, and his teeth graze against Jon’s lips just slightly, he decides that catching his breath can wait. But Martin is a lot closer to mortal than Jon is, and moves away first, leaving Jon’s mouth chasing his. Martin hovers just out of reach. He stares into Jon’s eyes just for a moment, and then swoops in again, with twice the tender ferocity.

“What. Were. You. Thinking” he punctuates each word with a kiss, and Jon’s aware that Martin hasn’t closed his eyes for a second, although Jon’s own have fluttered shut.

“Hmm?” he answers, a little dazed.

“How did you end up nearly getting trampled by cows, Jon?!” Martin’s beautiful, ridiculous eyes are focussed on him so intently he can’t move.

“Oh. Oh. I uh, tried to take a shortcut”

“You couldn’t have taken one that didn’t involve going through a field of cows?!” Martin’s voice is shrill now, and getting shriller by the second.

“Well it said it was a public footpath!”

“Not when it’s full of cows, Jon!”

“…I wanted to get a photo. For you. I just, I know how much you like them, and I thought if I really good photo of one then…I don’t know. In hindsight, not my best idea”

“Not really, no” Martin softens, treating him to a smile that’s only a little indulgent, like his grandmother letting him have one square of chocolate after dinner. Martin brushes his thumb against Jon’s cheek. He leans into it. “But I appreciate the thought”

“Although…if that’s how you’re going to react every time I get into ‘’mortal peril’’ from now on, I might just have to keep doing it” Jon smirks at him, and Martin fixes him with a look of such fond domestic disappointment he decides to dart forwards and steal a kiss for himself. Martin, with what Jon Knows is a frankly Herculean effort, pulls away with a warning look.

“If you do that I’ll never let you out of my sight again”

“Is that so?” Jon murmurs softly, letting all of his gaze slip down to Martin’s lips.

This time, when he darts forwards, Martin tangles his fingers in his hair and kisses him as though each kiss will make Jon invincible. As Jon kisses back, he thinks he just might be.

A snort behind Jon drags his attention away, and he turns to see a series of curious faces peering at them over the fence. Martin’s gaze follows his, and he lets out a gasp so soft and quiet Jon feels his heart twist.

“Oh”

“Wait” Jon wriggles out from beneath Martin, and pulls out his phone, scowling at it for a moment before giving in and just Knowing how to work the camera on it.

Martin isn’t looking, his attention now captured entirely by the cows, who are a little less intimidating behind several bars of wood. Jon watches, desperately enamoured as Martin reaches out to brush the hair out of the eyes of the closest cow. He doesn’t look at his phone as he snaps the picture, knowing before he takes it that it’s perfect.

They are well clear of the field, dusk closing in on them when something rather ironically dawns on Martin, and he turns, twisting his fingers in Jon’s.

“Jon…”

“Hmmm?” he hums contentedly, looking up at Martin.

“If you’re an avatar of all all-knowing being, why did you text me for help?”

“I…” Jon stops “I don’t know”

“Don’t give me that. Yes you do”

“I just. If I was going to meet my end being trampled by cows…you were the last person I wanted to talk to before it happened” he says quietly, eyes flitting towards the darkening ground.

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be romantic, but if you ever scare me like that again I will raise you from the dead myself so…”

“So?”

“I haven’t thought of a suitable punishment for you yet!”

“Well, maybe if you kiss me again it will give you some inspiration?”

“You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

“I do. I love you”

“I love you too”


End file.
